


Hot And Bothered

by anxiousgeek



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiousgeek/pseuds/anxiousgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House is watching Genital Hospital in the OBGYN lounge. Talk of sex and porn. Smut. Spoilers up to House's Head. Some Amber/Wilson. Humour. PWP in some places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hot And Bothered

**Author's Note:**

> WIP

"Oh God, what the hell are you watching?"

House looked around in the chair he was sitting in, the OBGYN lounge empty aside from him, Cuddy standing just inside the room, hands on her hips, blouse indecent. She was holding a hand up in front of her to block the television from her view.

"It says closed for health inspection on the door," he mumbled, turning back to the tv.

"I know, I don't remember any health inspection today."

"It's completely legitimate," he said.

"House, you're watching porn."

"I'm inspecting it," he said, "and they're naked, so in a way..."

"In a way, you're watching porn, in the middle of the day, in the OBGYN lounge." She lowered a hand, caught sight of more naked flesh on the tv and raised it again.

"Oh the irony," he said, she sighed.

"Turn it off and get your ass in the clinic."

"But this is Genital Hospital Two, and Sindy is about to get treatment for her sex-amnesia!" he cried. Cuddy rolled her eyes, the effect ruined by the hand in front of her face.

"Genital Hospital Two? There are two of these?" she said, looking at the television again. She had nothing against porn, just didn't want it in her hospital, being watched by her best doctor at one in the afternoon when the clinic was backed up with patients wanting a check up on the their lunch break.

"Four actually, at least, there's talk of a fifth. Two is my favourite, there's actual medicine in this one," he said, looking back at her again. "Will you put your hand down? It's not like they're doing anything nasty. Or even particularly kinky, it's the missionary position, which I know you're not used to much, being the dominating administrator you like to portray."

She didn't reply, walking around the other chairs and grabbing the remote and turning the television off.

"Clinic. Now."

"As soon as Sindy is cured," he said, grabbing the remote and putting the tv back on.

"I think she's recovering nicely," Cuddy said looking at the screen. House smirked, and settled back into the chair, dodging Cuddy as she went to swipe the remote from him again.

"We're only half way through, she could have a relapse," he said, fighting to see the television around her as she continued to try and get the remote from him.

"You've seen it before!" she argued. He reached out, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her into his lap, grimacing pain when she hit his bad leg too hard, taking a deep breath. "House!" she cried, "your leg..."

"Is fine," he said with a harsh breath, "come and watch the porn with me," he shifted her weight onto his other leg as she struggled to get off his lap. "If you keep wriggling up you will hurt my leg."

"Then let go," she said, making him smile.

"Actually, keep wriggling," he said, trying not to moan. The friction of his jeans and the weight of her was far too arousing.

"House!"

"Come on Cuddy, we used to watch porn together."

"No we didn't," she said, pushing against him to get up.

"Oh yeah, well, we should of."

"I don't think so," she said and he smiled.

"I'll do an extra day in the clinic if you stay."

"No."

"Two days."

"You wouldn't do any extra time in the clinic, I can't get you to do the time you're supposed to do."

"I will if you stay."

"Why do you want me to stay?"

"Three days." She looked at him, raised eyebrow.

"You're serious?"

"Completely." She studied him for a moment, ignoring the moaning on screen and the way he was shifting his hips minutely beneath her. Which was difficult. He was difficult, but he was being serious. For once.

"Deal," she said, thinking she'd gone completely mad for a moment, but an extra three days of clinic duty was worth the embarrassment of some bad porn. "But, I am not sitting on your lap."

"Fine." He let her go, and she struggled to her feet, and sat on the sofa next to him. He heaved himself up with his cane, then flopped onto the sofa next to her. He grinned at her.

"Why do you want me to watch porn with you?" she asked, watching Sindy recover from sex amnesia with enthusiasm.

"Because, when most people watch porn they get hot and aroused, and we'll have sex in the OBGYN lounge."

"Oh the irony," she muttered, "I'm not having sex with you."

"You're watching the porn, the rest is inevitable."

"Sex is not inevitable."

"Right now it is," he said, shifting to sit closer to her.

"I'm not having sex with you," she repeated.

"You're watching the porn."

"So?"

"So, we're gonna have sex."

"I'm not having sex with you."

"Why are you still wriggling?" She stopped still, and realised she could still feel him beneath her, the stirrings of his erection.

"I'm not wriggling," she said, "and you're willing to do three extra days worth of clinic duty to have sex with me?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "Actually, I was willing to do five, you need to practice your negotiation skills."

"Doesn't that make you a whore?"

"I'm pretty sure it makes us both whores." he said, cupping his crotch. She glared at him. "Hot and bothered yet?"

"Bothered yes, by you."

"Wanna skip the foreplay."

"Never," she said. He smirked.

"Ooh, this is a good bit," House said, pointing at the tv, then turning the volume up, Cuddy looked from his face to the screen and sighed. She was annoyed, not because it was working, but because he could get to her like this. Porn was porn, it was mostly pointless for her, it had never really affected her.

House did.

House was, he was semi hard, and as handsome as he had always been. And he was willing to do something he hated the most to get into her thong. She didn't really believe he would do it, do the extra clinic hours, but she was here anyway, watching average porn, with average looking guys (and one really hot girl, she had to admit to herself).

She had always been a bit of a sucker for House, but then, he wanted her here.

She needed to get back to work, before she got hot and bothered by her own thoughts about House.

"I'm going before this woman has a sex overdose," she said getting up. House grabbed her arm and pulled her back down, kissing her on the lips when she fell back down next him. Her immediate reaction was to kiss back, her hands reaching up to cup his face and his hand slipping beneath her blouse in the next second. Now she was hot and bothered and aroused and _fuck_.

She forced her lips from his, grabbing his forearms and pushed him away.

"House," she said, voice low and dangerous, "stop."

"Okay." He sat back and turned his attention back to porn. She stood up again, hands on hips, not sure what to say to him.

"Clinic."

"Broken record." The door opened, Cuddy went bright red from embarrassment as Wilson walked in.

"You paged me for porn?" he asked, flushing red when he saw the porn film and Cuddy in the same room.

"Genital Hospital Two."

"Oh, well then." He sat down in the chair House had previously vacated, sighing in resignation, and looked up at Cuddy. "Did he page you too?"

"He's closed down the OBGYN lounge for a private porn viewing, he didn't have to page me," she said with more confidence than she felt, cheeks flushed.

"Wilson prefers Genital Hospital One," House said, "he's a purest, the originals are the best right Jimmy?"

"Do you two watch a lot of porn together?" she asked, smiling again.

"Yes, Wilson is my usual porn buddy, but you're hotter," he said with a smirk, "nor will he have sex with me."

"I'm not having sex with you. Enjoy your film," she said, "and I use that term loosely," she added before leaving the room.

"What did you do?" Wilson asked.

"Nothing bad," House said, "I just kissed her."

"You kissed her?"

"Yeah."

"Did she kiss back?" Wilson asked with a smile.

"Yep."

"Really?"

"Yep, then I tried to cop a feel and she jumped away."

"Cop a feel?" Wilson raised his brow, smiling again.

"What can I say, my memory needs refreshing."

"You said you never slept with her in college."

"I didn't."

"But you have slept with her?" Wilson turned on the sofa, facing House and ignoring the porn for the minute.

"Not exactly..." House said, his voice trailing off, eyes glued on the television. "There was some groping, and some oral, but we never got to the sex part."

"Why not?"

"Broke up."

"You broke up?"

"Do you have to question everything I tell you today, it's very distracting and I'm missing important parts of Candy's differential."

"You broke up?" Wilson repeated.

"We were going slow, and broke up before we got that far," House said, shrugging it off.

"You were going slow? Really?"

"Yes, Cuddy was young, I was...nicer back then."

"You were nicer?"

"Seriously, stop that," House said, gesturing wildly towards the television.

"They're diagnosing sex-amnesia, again!" Wilson said.

"Okay, I wasn't nicer, but Cuddy was, is, that hot," he said.

"Of course, you slow down for the pretty girls, just your MO."

"MO? You watch too many cop shows Wilson."

"Does explain why you are like you are around her though, you care about her, and cared about her a lot back then, enough to take it slow with her."

"Yeah, yeah, I was a fucking gentleman," he grumbled.

"No, that's the point, you cared about her enough to be a gentleman."

"No, she was just that hot."

"Maybe, in the beginning," Wilson said with a smug smile.

"Oh, just shut up and watch the porn."


	3. Weird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Things are getting weird, with Cuddy," House said, stretching himself out on Wilson's sofa, tapping his cane on the floor. From his desk Wilson frowned at him.

"Things are getting weird, with Cuddy," House said, stretching himself out on Wilson's sofa, tapping his cane on the floor. From his desk Wilson frowned at him.

"Weird?" he asked.

"Since I kissed her."

"She angry with you?"

"Furious, about the porn more than anything, not the kiss."

"Because she wanted the kiss," Wilson suggested.

"She wouldn't have sex with me," House pointed out.

"Cuddy would never have sex in the hospital," Wilson said, leaning back in his chair and resting his legs on the desk, settling in for a long conversation. "Why do you want to have sex with her anyway? Because you didn't in college?"

"Because she has the hottest rack in the hospital," House said.

"She was number four, we made a list remember?" House smirked.

"She has the ass to go with it though."

"She was number two on the ass list," Wilson reminded him, "and I know this has nothing to with her body."

"It was about her ass when I kissed her."

"But it's not now?" House tapped another rhythm out on the carpet.

"No," he said getting up and leaving the office. Wilson watching him go before scrambling to his feet and following the man down the corridor.

"So what is it?" he asked catching up with him.

"I don't know, it's...weird."

"Weird?"

"Do you just like repeating that?" House said, going back into his office and sitting at his desk. Wilson stood in the middle of the room.

"So what are you going to do?"

"Nothing," he said, grabbing his headphones.

"You have to do something House, talk to her."

"We did talk, things got weird," he said, putting his headphones on. Wilson opened his mouth to speak, but saw House press play on his ipod and decided not to bother.

zzzzz

"Is this a joke?" House turned away from his computer to look at Cuddy who was standing in his office, one hand on her hip, the other holding a piece of paper up in the air. She was angry, but there was something else behind it all, House could tell, she wasn't just angry.

"Does it have a punchline? Cause that would be a dead giveaway."

"You made a complaint of sexual harassment against me?"

"You've been avoiding me," he said flatly. The anger slipped from her face for a moment, both arms dropping.

"I can't believe HR even took you seriously."

"I done all sorts of unspeakable things over the past two weeks, almost killed a patient, and a risked the life of a baby..."

"You must've threatened one of personnel," she said, the two of them ignoring each other's conversations.

"I've upset all three of my fellows, and I know at least one of them has been to complain about me."

"Or maybe you sweet talked one of them into it, I know Amy has a thing for older men, going on her last boyfriend, although, Peter has a thing for jerks, so maybe it was him."

"I haven't done any of my clinic hours, not one, and I know how pissed you get about that," he said getting up, swinging his cane dramatically and walking around the desk to her. "And now you're ignoring everything I say, diverting me by questioning my morals, as usual, and my sexuality, which is new."

"I've just never questioned your sexuality to your face before," she said with a smile, a forced smile he noticed.

"Another good one," he said, his own half smile as real as it would ever get. "You've been avoiding me."

"I've been busy," she said.

"You're always busy."

"Busier," she tried.

"The question is, why have you been avoiding me?" He walked up to her, stopping mere inches away from her.

"You want to talk?" she asked.

"No," he said, "but the fact that you don't want to talk is interesting."

"I don't, don't want to talk," she said, flustered. He smirked.

"Whatever you say Lisa." Her first name made her jump a little, eyes wide.

"Greg."

"That's much better."

"What's going on?" Cuddy asked, voice dropping a touch, "between us."

"No idea," he said, moving away again.

"I haven't been avoiding you," she said, sounding more confident again, the change sudden, shocking, "and you still have to make up those clinic hours, apologise to your fellows."

"And us?"

"There's an us now?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Of course, we still have that nice employer employee thing going on." She smiled.

"Nice isn't the word I'd use."

"It was the best I could come up with that wouldn't get me one of those letters from HR," he said, nodding at the paper in her hand, "and it was Adam I sweet talked," he added walking past her towards the conference room.

"Adam?"

"Nice kid, completely straight," he said opening the door, "total drug addict." He smiled and walked into the other room, letting the door close behind him and leaving Cuddy in his office. "I need a refill," he shouted, seeing Wilson passing by, shaking his empty Vicodin bottle.

zzzzz

"What's going on with you two?" Wilson asked.

Cuddy was sitting at her desk, head in hands, files unread beneath her elbows. He waiting patiently for her to look up, or answer, standing in the middle of her office, hands on hips, looking anything but patient.

"I have no idea," she said, looking up finally.

"He said things were weird with you."

"Because things are weird. Always have been."

"Always?"

"Since we broke up."

"When? Since college?"

"You think we fight and push and pull and piss each other off because things are normal between us?"

"Yes!"

"Well, maybe we'd do that anyway, but, we didn't, not back then."

"So then what? You want that back? Want House back?"

"I don't know," she breathed, "I never wanted to leave him in the first place."

"Why did you?"

"It was for the best, for me, he understood, said he did, and I still believe him, that."

"Really?"

"He would've done anything for me back then."

"Really?" This time there was much more disbelief in his voice and Cuddy laughed softly.

"Yes, he..." She shrugged. "He cared about me."

"He was in love wit you."

"I don't think so. I think...he was different back then."

"I know that's a lie," Wilson said with a smile. She shrugged and he decided to dropped it, turning to leave her office. "One thing, did you and House really never sleep together?"

"Never."

"So you were just dating,"

"It was a little more than that," she said, "for me at least, we, just never got around to sleeping together."

"Why not?" She shrugged again, and he knew this conversation was over too. He didn't think he'd seen the woman shrug so much since he'd met her, had never seen her so unsure. "One more thing."

"Wilson..." she warned.

"Did you love him? Back then?" She shrugged again and he fought the urge to laugh as he left her alone.


	4. Practical Application

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a lot of speculation and conversation for nothing, Cuddy decided. Neither of them were going to do anything about what had been said. They would go back to normal, screaming, shouting, pushing and pulling. Except maybe she'd call him Greg sometimes, during those moments when he looked almost vulnerable, during the times the pain darkened his blue eyes. She couldn't imagine him calling her Lisa again. Definitely couldn't imagine him ever calling her Lise.

It was a lot of speculation and conversation for nothing, Cuddy decided. Neither of them were going to do anything about what had been said. They would go back to normal, screaming, shouting, pushing and pulling. Except maybe she'd call him Greg sometimes, during those moments when he looked almost vulnerable, during the times the pain darkened his blue eyes. She couldn't imagine him calling her Lisa again. Definitely couldn't imagine him ever calling her Lise.

Not without a little whine at the end at least.

She smiled. College with House had been a lot of fun. Her finals had been three months of flirting, six months of dating and then she'd left him because, because it had been for the best, for her. Selfish, and she'd expected him to shout that at her, had seen his anger, but he'd understood.

He'd been hurt, but he'd understood and she was upset that she'd hurt him, but she'd done worse since.

And he'd made up for his lack of anger then.

"Earth to Cuddy," House said, waving his cane in front of her face. She frowned, the man irritated the hell out of her, but she realised, he had done back then too.

"House," she said, trying to bite back the growl.

"I thought you were calling me Greg now?" he asked.

"Not when I'm pissed with you."

"What did I do?"

"I don't know, but I can feel something."

"You're still pissed about the porn and the kiss," he said, "you're still thinking about the porn and the kiss," he accused.

"Shhh," she hissed, looking around the clinic, "and so are you."

"The porn certainly."

"Can we ever have a serious conversation?" she asked.

"Nope," he said, "do you want one?"

"Nope."

"Do you want to have sex?" he asked.

"Nope. Do you?"

"Always," he said, leering down her top. She rolled her eyes.

Back to normal.

Except, she didn't want things to go back to normal.

* * *

There was a dvd on her desk waiting for her when she got in work the next day. An office that had been locked over night, that even her assistant didn't have a key too. It made her suspicious. And whenever she was suspicious she thought of House.

She took the disk out of the plain black case, holding it carefully in her hand. In careful capital letters the title ' _The Morning_ ' was written in handwriting she didn't recognise. Not that it mattered, House had probably given her porn.

She assumed so until she saw the note that had been hidden underneath it saying ' _it's not porn_ '.

She laughed to herself and dropped it into her in-tray.

* * *

She made it to lunch without watching the film, fighting her curiosity for four hours while she caught up with her paperwork and chased up doctors for clinic duty. House wasn't the only one who was reluctant to fill their quota but he was the only doctor who needed more than a friendly reminder. Or an unfriendly threat.

She took her lunch break and without the distractions of her hospital she couldn't hold out any longer.

With a frustrated growl (frustration with herself and House) she grabbed the dvd and stalked over to the television and player, still set up from when she and House had watched the documentary. If it was porn she was going to be so pissed.

She locked the office door just in care.

She settled into the chair, and pressed play, taking a bite of her sandwich as the opening title sequence started. Then she smiled, a huge smile she could feel through her entire body.

" _The Morning_ " was a Harry Pressing film. Harry, with his bad film student projects, and an apartment that smelt of cannabis and sweat. Harry was his scraggly black hair and his little brown sofa she and House had sat on twenty years ago.

* * *

"What did you think?" House asked, seeing the dvd on the table to his right.

"The acting was better," she said and he smirked, "I didn't realised you followed Harry's career."

"Not by choice." Cuddy smiled at that. "He keeps in touch, has done for a long time." He shrugged at his own answer, tapping his cane on the floor.

"It was good," she said, still smiling, "have you watched it?"

"Yeah. It was pretentious."

"A little, but if I recall, Harry was pretentious."

"Still is."

"Why were you ever friends with him?"

"He had good connections."

"Drugs," she said flatly.

"Among other things," he said popping a Vicodin. She rolled her eyes.

"Thank you," she told him, "for the film."

It was a nice gesture, they both knew it, another little foray into the past, when they hadn't been so lonely and he could run faster than she could. They weren't going to say it though. House didn't do nice, hell, neither did Cuddy much anyway.

"You're welcome," he muttered, whirling around and grabbing the dvd as he walked out.

* * *

"Things are weird, with House," Cuddy said. Wilson looked up from his newspaper with a frown, he looked around quickly as she sat down opposite him, with no tray or drink of her own.

"Deja vu."

"What?"

"Never mind," he said with a smile, "you were saying?"

"I thought things were going back to normal but they're not."

"What happened?"

"He gave me a dvd to watch."

Oh," Wilson stopped eating, "look, House has an odd sense of humour. Whatever sort of porn it was, the best thing to do it just not watch..."

"It wasn't porn."

"Oh."

"He gives you porn?" Cuddy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes," Wilson said, blushing fiercely, "he didn't give you porn?"

"No."

"What was it?"

"An independent film made by a friend of House's we knew in college."

"And it wasn't porn?"

"No, it was good actually, funny and sweet."

"Sweet?"

"House didn't make the film."

"Did he watch it?" Wilson asked.

"Says so," she sighed and sat back in her chair.

"So he gave you a dvd to watch and now things are weird again?"

"Yes."

"And weird is bad?"

"Yes," she paused, "at least when things are normal I know what to expect from him," she said, taking a fry from his plate that she'd been looking at since she had sat down. "That dvd, it was almost a nice thing to do."

"If we weren't talking about House, it would be."

"Exactly, but it is House."

"Talk to him Cuddy," Wilson said, "go up to him and demand answers like you would with anything else. It will give you the confidence you need to treat it normally. Treat him normally."

"You're right."

"It happens." She smiled then, taking another fry.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

* * *

It was a good idea in theory, but like all idea and experiments, the theory was flawless but the practical application not so much.

She stalked through the corridors of her hospital, never more grateful for 'fuck-me' heels. They always made her feel just that little but more invincible, if only because she could imagine stabbing House through the heart with them.

Thin wall between love and hate, she reminded herself.

She tried not to falter when she stepped over the threshold into his office, his territory, to see a small stack of dvds on his desk.

"More of Harry's creations. Some of the better ones," he said when he saw where she was looking. "Thought you might enjoy them."

"Oh," she hesitated, shocked, "thank you." He didn't reply, turning to his computer, and she stood still, having completely lost her focus for the moment. "What's going on?"

"An exchange between and employee and employer as far as I can tell," he said without missing a beat.

"Between us."

"The exchange. I think I just covered that. Unless you can see subtext in me giving you dvds that aren't porn. Though 'Seven Days' is pretty racy," he said, holding up a dvd.

"No, if you had given me porn, I could handle that, but you haven't," she said, finally walking further into the room, "you give Wilson porn, apparently, you give me something that reminds us both of when we were together."

"You can handle porn?" he asked.

"Damn you, fixating on the least important thing I say. As usual."

"At least I'm fixating in what you say and not the fact you're about to have a wardrobe malfunction worthy of the red carpet." She blushed and looked down at her breasts, her top a little lower that it should've been but there was no danger. She glared at him.

"Dammit House," she said before stalking off and out of his House.

Things were no different.


	5. Comfort Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He walked into her office early the next day (early for him) with the dvds in his hand. She didn't know what to say at first, but if things were back to normal she tried, "you're up early. Wet the bed?"

He walked into her office early the next day (early for him) with the dvds in his hand. She didn't know what to say at first, but if things were back to normal she tried, "you're up early. Wet the bed?"

"Good one," he replied, with a twist of his lips. "I haven't been to bed yet. I was having wild sex with Thirteen all night on my conference table."

"Good one," she echoed.

"Foreman?"

"Try Kutner and I might believe you," she said. He gave her a half grin again and limped to her desk, leaning heavily on his cane.

"You forgot these yesterday," he told her, dropping them onto her desk, on top of the files she had been reading. "You will enjoy them," he said, face serious. His eyes were dark, and she could see the tremors in his face as he tried not to wince or grimace, "I'm not just trying to torment you."

"But you are trying to torment me?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Always." She couldn't help the smile she gave him back and he nodded and walked away.

"Greg?" she said, stopping him at the door. "Did you sleep at all last night?" she asked.

"A bit," he answered honestly, "even Kunter's got to rest." She frowned.

"Go home Greg," she said, "call Ingrid, get a massage, or a blow job, or something, get some rest."

"I have clinic."

"I'll get Kutner to cover. Seeing as he kept you up all night."

"Good one," he said with a nod, "thanks."

zzzzz

Cuddy was the last person he expected to see at his door, with take-out and beers, in jeans and a top cut low enough to rival a hooker.

"It's a little early for Halloween costumes Wilson," he said. Cuddy just smiled.

"I know you eat like the teenager you are on the inside, and you were in pain, so I brought food," she said, "I brought beer to sweeten the deal."

"The low cut top and the Chinese food was enough." He grabbed the six pack and walked back to his safe, hoping she'd note the sightlier easier walk. The jeans were more than enough to get her through his door, always had been, even if she wore 'fuck-me' heels and tight, tight skirts the rest of the time.

He sat down and she went to his kitchen, listening as she opened and shut cupboards looking for plates and cutlery. He smiled to himself and got back up again, limping in after her. Without a word he pulled out two plates and found a draw with some chopsticks.

"You seem a little better," Cuddy said, voice quiet.

"Ingrid is very good with her hands." She raised an eyebrow. "And I had some morphine."

"Oh God," she sighed, "at least you're feeling better." He grunted and grabbed a plate of food, limping back into the lounge. She followed with her own food, sitting down next to him on the sofa, perching awkwardly on the edge.

"What are we watching?" she asked. She was out of her comfort zone, he knew that, out of the hospital or her house (there was a reason she took her dates home).

"When animals attack," he informed her around his food.

This was the Cuddy of old. The nervous, almost shy Cuddy that cared about him as much as her hospital. The Cuddy without personal direction (she'd always had professional direction, since she was twelve). This was Lisa. If it weren't for the persistent _throb, throb, stab_ of his leg, he could almost imagine the two of them in his apartment in Michigan, watching television, Lisa perching on the edge of his sofa like she would run at any second. She'd been unsure of the relationship at first, then wanted nothing more than to be with him. It had surprised him when she'd ended things.

It had hurt him.

If they had been in his apartment in Michigan he would urge her to relax softly, put his arm around her and pull her close.

The _throb, throb, stab_ made him say, "relax Cuddy," in a harsh voice instead. She jumped, but steeled back into his sofa. He didn't know why she was here, and didn't know why he had let her stay instead of sending her away either. He had a suspicion that Cuddy didn't know what she was doing either.

"So the basic premise of this programme is animals taking chunks out of humans," Cuddy said.

"It's research," he said, making her smile, wondering what it would take to make her laugh again. "I'm learning about different bite marks, and teeth patterns."

"Just in case someone comes into the clinic with a cougar bite," she said, and he huffed out some laughter.

"It could happen."

"Around you, anything is possible," she said, her grin widening.

"Did you watch the films?" he asked.

"Just 'Seven Days'. It was very good," she said, "you were right."

"Always am."

zzzzz

Dinner was mostly finished and abandoned on his coffee table where his left leg threatened to knock the plates off. They hadn't bothered to move anything away. House didn't care and he knew Cuddy would clean up before she left. She had become more anal since college, not less.

It was weird thought. Except for the _throb, throb, stab_ it was nice, they were just watching television, she was sitting next to him, relaxed, as they watched programmes about people getting hurt and large explosions. He was enjoying himself, some of the same verbal sparring, jokes about morons and wild animals, it was weird but good and it confused the hell out of him. Because Cuddy was the devil. Who looked really hot in jeans.

"I should go," she said, in the middle of his thoughts about her ass. "Some of us have work in the morning."

"I'll be there."

"When?" she asked with a grin.

"Anytime between ten and three."

"You have clinic hours at two," she said, but was smiling, which again was weird and he watched her stand and start tidying away the remains of dinner into his kitchen. He followed her and watched her clean up, quietly, just listening to the 'chink, clink' of plates. When she finished and turned around, she walked straight into him, not expecting him to be there.

"Dammit House," she hissed. He smiled at her, then kissed her on the lips, one hand holding onto his cane, the other threading into her dark hair. The earlier kiss had just reminded him he much he missed simple things about her. Like her hair. He was still kissing her gently, and thinking about her hair when he realised she was kissing him back. And not out of shock, like a couple of days before, but with want and enthusiasm, pushing back against him a little.

"Cuddy," he mumbled against her lips.

"Lisa," she told him, "I hate that you call me Cuddy all the time."

"Oh," was all he could say before capturing her lips again and pushing her back against the nearest surface, his fridge. His cane fell to floor, forgotten with the wonderful familiarity of kissing Lisa Cuddy. He rested his hands on her hips, holding tight as she wrapped her arms around his neck to kiss back, harder. She tasted of beer and honey, and he really liked it, liked this.

She pulled at the edges of his t-shirt, sliding cool hands up and over his skin, nipping at his bottom lip. He smirked at her little moan when his own hand slipped beneath her top and pulled her closer to him. He circled his hips against hers, trying to suppress the groan of pleasure from the friction.

"Greg," she moaned, "we can't do this."

"Deja vu," he groaned, pulling back. They were both breathing hard, Cuddy's face flushed, hair wild.

Fucking gorgeous.

"No, I really have to be early, I can't stay."

"Then we'll have a quickie on the sofa before you go home."

"House," she said and he sighed,back to House again so soon. "It's not that I don't want to," she said kissing him again, slow and sweet, "because god I do," she continued, with a moan, "but not tonight."

From Lisa Cuddy, he'd heard it all before, and in his twenties it had been frustrating but understandable. In his forties it was down right annoying. He grabbed his cane from the floor.

"Wait there," he said, walking quickly from the kitchen.

He returned with a small foot stool and dropped down onto it, running his hands up her jean clad thighs.

"Making me come has never changed my mind before, Greg," she sighed. He ignored her and popped the button on her jeans. She sighed as his fingers brushed over her skin, before he leaned forward to kiss her abdomen, the rasp of his stubble making her moan. He smirked against her skin, licking and nipping as he pulled her jeans down. He ran a finger over her thong, feeling a little wetness seeping through the sheer material.

"You really do want me, don't you Lisa?" he said, running his finger over the other side of the material, his knuckles brushing over her centre. She thrust her hips out with a whimper and he couldn't get rid of the smirk. He'd learned how to get Lisa Cuddy off years ago, figured that can't have changed much.

"Acquire any fetishes over the past twenty years Lisa?" he asked, pulling her thong down to pool around her ankles with her jeans. "Aside from thongs?"

"Greg," she moaned, his fingers dancing up the inside her of thighs, causing her to spread them a little wider for him. He looked up at her, the blush had spread down and under her top and he smiled. He kissed the thatch of dark hair and she whimpered in frustration.

"Come on Cuddy, you can tell me," he said, the words washing over her clit. He was so close, and she wanted him to touch her so badly but she held still, trembling with the effort. "Please tell me you like a little BDSM. Maybe spanking. Do you want to spank me Lisa?"

"I want you to touch me," she whispered.

"Do you want me to spank you?" he asked, licking a long line over her, up to her clit, flicking his tongue over it. "Maybe you're an exhibitionist now?"

"House," her voice was half warning still and he chuckled, flicking his tongue over her clit gain, lapping at some of the wetness with the flat of his tongue.

"Or you like role play. I know I have this fantasy about you dressed up as a naughty school girl."

"Oh God," she whimpered, feeling his fingers tracing soft lines over her flesh.

The last time he had done this, they had been in his apartment, and he'd been on his knees, and he hadn't been trying to convince her to stay the night. He'd just wanted to make her come, if only to hear her choke his name out on a gasp like she had done a few days before when he had fingered her in her dorm room.

The last time he had done this, she had sank to his bedroom floor, flushed, sweaty and smiling. Then she'd given him a blow job full of innocence and hesitation, making the whole thing hotter than it really should've been.

She'd probably be much better at it now, he mused, sliding a long finger into her body. Her reactions were similar, but she was more confident now, her movements more defined, voice louder. She was more sure of what she wanted, of her own pleasure and, damn, if it wasn't as hot as all hell.

She was moving her hips in time with his hand, little movements, and held on to the fridge behind her.

"More," she moaned and he complied, sliding another finger home, as deep as he could. "Better," she told him with a smile and he was winning her over in some way, even if she didn't stay. He picked up the rhythm of his fingers moving in and out of her body, flicking his tongue over her clit a couple of times before he sucked the little nub hard into his mouth.

"Oh fuck," she cried, her body jolting back into the fridge in response.

"Which sailor gave you that dirty mouth Lisa?" he asked with a grin, sucking hard again. She jerked away from him again, then pushed her hips further into his face. He looked up at her face, eyes closed, bottom lip between her teeth, cheeks bright red. And her hair, her hair was wild and beautiful.

"Fuck you House," she panted.

"That's the goal."

"I'm not sleeping with you. Not tonight."

"Tomorrow?" he asked, nipping at her flesh. She squeaked.

"Maybe."

"I'll do all my clinic hours," he said, making her squeak again. That was new. Unless he'd never done that with his teeth before. Couldn't be sure.

"No you won't," she moaned.

"No I won't," he agreed. He could see her knuckles turning white from gripping onto the fridge. She was getting close, her breath hitching, a little ' _hah_ ' noise escaping her throat with every exhale and her hips moving in a perfect rhythm with his hand, pulling him in deeper, her muscles tightening around him. If he stopped, he wondered how many clinic hours she'd let him have off to make her come, and considered it for a moment, before finding the spot inside her body that made her melt, sucking on her clit as he pressed down hard and deep inside her.

"Greg!" she cried, her whole body going taut, back arching towards him, wanting more, more, more. He lapped her clit as she came, pulling her through her orgasm, moving his fingers slowly when he felt his hand coated with heat. He watched her face carefully and smiled, she still looked...sweet...when she came, face scrunched up. He had expected her to revert to House again and it had been a welcome surprise to hear her cry out Greg.

When her body calmed, he pulled away, sucking on his fingers, rubbing his bad leg with his other hand. She still had her eyes closed, lungs working hard, and he wanted to strip her completely. Take her to bed and exert a little dominance over her. Or submit, as long as her breasts were involved. He wanted her to stay so he could tire her out completely so she would walk into the hospital the next day looking thoroughly fucked.

He stood awkwardly, trying to pull up her jeans and thong up with him, but failed and finally she opened her eyes to look at him. She smiled, then kissed him quickly, before bending to redress herself.

"I can't stay," she said, kissing him again, and he knew she could taste herself on his tongue. He didn't reply, simply standing back to let her pass and she gave him a guilty look.

"Another time maybe," he said gruffly, looking away from her and rearranging his jeans.

"House, I, I'm, Greg," she paused, "I want to."

"I know." She forced his head back to face her, and kissed him. "By time you get home, get changed, get into bed, we could already be in bed," he said."

"I know."

"It's not about work though."

"No."

"Good night Lisa," he limped off, his walk heavier than usual. It was hard to walk with a bad leg and an erection. He closed his bedroom door and sat on his bed, waiting for Cuddy to gather up her things and leave.

When he heard his front door close a few minutes later, he flopped onto his back, palming his erection through his jeans, wondering what on earth was going through Cuddy's head.

And his own.


	6. Progress?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night had been torturous. He'd managed to bring himself to a quick but intense orgasm, after Cuddy had left, lying back sideways across his bed, his jeans around his ankles. Hand tight around his dick, a little lube in his palm, thinking about Lisa Cuddy's face, her voice, calling his name. Thinking about her breasts, what they had looked like twenty years ago, what they might look like now. He regretted not fucking her over his kitchen table, his sofa, his bed. He'd always wanted to bend her over something and fuck her, even all those years ago in college. She had always had the perfect ass.

Last night had been torturous. He'd managed to bring himself to a quick but intense orgasm, after Cuddy had left, lying back sideways across his bed, his jeans around his ankles. Hand tight around his dick, a little lube in his palm, thinking about Lisa Cuddy's face, her voice, calling his name. Thinking about her breasts, what they had looked like twenty years ago, what they might look like now. He regretted not fucking her over his kitchen table, his sofa, his bed. He'd always wanted to bend her over something and fuck her, even all those years ago in college. She had always had the perfect ass.

She might be evil but she damn near perfect too. She wasn't always so angry, or evil, or lonely. He wondered if the sweet Lisa was still in there sometimes, but then she spent long hours on the children's wards. He'd watched her once, playing chutes and ladders with a six year old. It was sweet, it was just never directed at him. Not that he wanted it anymore, but he was just glad it was still int there.

He came thinking about the sweet side of Lisa Cuddy, grunting and coming over his shirt, bed covers twisted in his hands.

He was mildly disgusted with his thoughts, and the state of his shirt, but didn't give it another thought once he stripped and cleaned himself off, leaving it all to be dealt with in the morning.

* * *

When walked into her office she was bending forward over her desk, chewing out some kid doctor, and he could see right down her top. She stopped mid-rant when she saw him, standing up straight and folding her arms.

"Out," she said, looking at him but talking to the kid. When he didn't move House smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"She meant you," he said. The doctor, Morgan he thought, looked at House, then Cuddy, before fleeing. He watched him go with a smirk then turned his attentions back to the Dean of Medicine. He didn't know what to say, at least not about last night, except, "that top is begging me to lick chocolate sauce of your breasts."

"Maybe so," she said without missing a beat, but still flushing a little red, "but my legs are saying 'try it and we'll crush you'."

"I might like that," he said, "and I'm pretty sure you do like that." If they had been on her bed, and he in between her legs, last night, he knew he would've been crushed. She was flushing with the memory, or maybe the idea about the chocolate sauce.

"Greg."

"Can we talk after we have sex?" he interrupted, "I mean, I've been waiting twenty years."

"Not very patiently," she said.

"We're never going to have a normal relationship," he said, voice suddenly serious. Her arms dropped down and she studied him, trying to figure out his words at least. "No babies, or white picket fences, PTA meetings or BarMitzvahs."

"Maybe I gave up on that."

He smirked in response.

"I know your biological clock is still ticking Cuddy," he said, She shrugged. "And even if it's not about kids, you need something more than this, than what you know I can offer. You don't want me, you just want someone." She smiled. Sighing, shrugging and smiling, he wanted her to say something now. Before he talked himself into something he was unsure about. Scared about.

"You're wrong about me," she said, voice low and even. "I need to be loved, but I don't need to be told, in grunts or otherwise."

"Right," he said cocking an eyebrow.

"You don't need what you're never had," she said, sitting down.

"That's either a very bad lie or very sad."

"If I just wanted sex, House, I would've stayed," she slumped back in her chair, plastering a smile on her face. "I'll have sex on the first date remember, I've known you twenty years. All I wanted to do was make sure you were feeling okay."

"You have a guilt complex."

"Not anymore."

"Really?" Her smile was genuine for a second, her amusement real.

"You've had plenty of time and chances to get help, to come to terms with what I did to your leg," she said. He didn't reply, tapping his cane on the carpet, the sound a small thud over and over.

"You came to my place because what?" he asked, "you were bored, lonely?"

"A little, yeah," the smile remained, "but I came around because I care about you. I love you. Always have." She tried to sound as nonchalant as she could but he could see the nerves, the rapid pules and the twitch of her fingers.

"Always have? You loved me twenty years ago?" She nodded, swallowing. "But you still left me?"

"Had to, I wanted to be the person I am now, hold the position I have. If I had stayed I would've married you and let some or my determination fall away."

"So you wanted to be childless and lonely?"

"I'm not saying there haven't been," she waved her hand in the air trying to think of the right word, "casualties, on the way."

"Don't you want to know how I feel?" he asked her, "or how I felt?"

"I'm pretty sure back then you loved me," she said, with such confidence it worried him that she knew him too well. "I don't know about now."

"But you want to know?"

"Of course, but I know you Greg, you won't say it, not to me, but if you feel it, you'll let me know. You'll show me," she smiled, "that's what I really want."

"What if I wanted to show you with sex?"

"Maybe you already did last night."

"Maybe."

He sat down in the chair opposite her, legs stretched out, cane twirling around in his hands. He didn't know what to do now and she was just letting him sit there and think.

"Why won't you have sex with me?"

"Because that would make you like every other guy," she said, "and I don't want that."

"Cause I'm so fucking special," he spat, regretting the words immediately. Cuddy just kept smiling, calm, it was unnerving.

"You have no idea," she said with a laugh.

"If I told you how I felt, would you even believe me?"

"Yes."

"Right."

They were both silent again, for a few minutes, until Cuddy started to sort through her paperwork.

"So now what?" he asked, "you don't get a kid, and I don't get to fuck you?"

"Children aren't important anymore."

"Yes and you spend all your free time in the children's wards for the scintillating conversation."

"Some people learn to deal with set backs in healthy ways Greg," she said.

"Therapy?"

"I didn't need it."

"I think you're bluffing." She shrugged.

"I was thinking pizza," she said.

"Pizza?"

"And a film, no more hungry animals and morons with explosive materials. A person can only stand so much."

"Impossible," he said, getting up, "but a film would be okay. None of Harry's crap though, get..."

"No porn," she interrupted.

"Damn," he said, and she grinned at him and he felt the grin back, pulling at his insides.

Damn.

"And if you do all your clinic hours, I'll bring beer again."

"Oh, no, no, this relationship isn't going to involve you bribing me with beer to do work. It's sex or nothing."

"You have beer already don't you?"

"Of course."

"Go do some work Greg." He nodded, smiling just a touch and walked out of her office.

He was almost at the clinic when he realised he'd used the word 'relationship'.


	7. Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I think I'm dating Cuddy," House said, sitting down on Wilson's sofa, "again," he added, looking across the office at the man.

"I think I'm dating Cuddy," House said, sitting down on Wilson's sofa, "again," he added, looking across the office at the man.

"You think?" Wilson asked from his desk. The scene was so familiar, between the two of them, the words so strange though.

"It kinda sneaked up on me."

"Have you slept with her?"

"No, just some oral, again." He smirked at the memory.

"But?"

"The night before she brought Chinese food, last night it was pizza."

"Do either of you ever cook?"

"She's cooking tonight," he mumbled and Wilson grinned.

"Do you want to be dating her?"

"I want to fuck her."

"That's not what I asked."

House hesitated with his answer, pushing and dragging his cane back and forward across the floor in a way Wilson knew was wearing the carpet out. In a way Wilson knew, House knew he was wearing his carpet out.

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"She's evil."

"Last night," Wilson tried, "what happened?"

"We had pizza, watched a movie, then Cuddy went home."

"Did you try and seduce her?" he asked.

House mouthed the word ' _seduced_ ' at him.

"You mean, did I try and get into her thong?" House said, "no, we kissed goodnight, that's it." His voice was low because he was embarrassed, because he was dating Cuddy, wanted to date Cuddy, he just didn't think he could fucking admit it.

"You're dating," Wilson said, leaning back in his chair. "Don't screw it up."

"What? You're gonna defend Cuddy's honour?"

"I don't think Cuddy needs anyone to defend her honour House."

"Flick knives in her heels," House said, knowingly tapping his nose.

"I'm just saying," Wilson continued, ignoring the other man, "don't screw up."

"I'll probably need help then," he admitted, voice quiet again.

This was why he hated dating. The uncertainty and admissions. He didn't mind relationships, but it was always like trekking through a fucking minefield to get to that stage. He usually wasn't willing to try, but with Cuddy, he'd found himself already in the middle of the minefield, surrounded by trouble.

Might as well trudge on forward, he thought, if there was a chance she wouldn't blow him up.

* * *

"I think I'm dating House," Cuddy said, as she and Wilson cleared up their things from the board meeting, the two of them the last to leave the room.

"Deja Vu," Wilson muttered with a grin. "You think?" he asked in a louder voice.

"It's House. It's hard to tell," she said, "Damn near impossible in fact."

"i know," he said with a smile.

"I know I shouldn't expect him to tell me anything, and I don't want that," she said, "but I just wish he'd give me some indication to what he wanted." She stuffed her files into her case with a little more force than she needed, frustrated with herself because she was supposed to be willing to go along with whatever with House, but it was already grating on her.

She was pathetic.

"You just need to know how to read House," Wilson said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Though to be honest, I doubt even he knows what's going on between the two of you."

"Has he said anything to you?"

"Not much," he replied, half truthfully. "He said you hadn't slept together."

"No."

"And last night?"

"He didn't even try anything."

"Really?" he already knew but wanted to push her into some understanding of his friend.

"No, just a kiss. A really good one." She smiled, then blushed.

"But he didn't try and seduce you?"

"If you mean, get into my thong, then no," she said, grinning as Wilson blushed.

"If he just wanted sex, it would've happened last night," he told her, "House is a hard man to say no to." She cocked an eyebrow at that.

"Really?"

"So, ah, so I've been told," Wilson ought, his face going even redder.

"We're going to have a talk about that, another time," she said, I have to get home."

"You're cooking," he stated.

"Yes, lasagna," she smiled. "I have wine, I thought candles might be a bit much."

"Maybe," he smiled back.

"I don't want to scare him."

"He's already terrified."

"I thought he hadn't said anything."

"He doesn't need to."

"I wish I knew him as well as you do."

"Spend enough time with him and you will," he said.

"That's the plan I suppose." She smiled at him. "Thank you."

* * *

"I think House and Cuddy are dating," Wilson said, flopping down onto Amber's sofa. She came out of the kitchen to frown at him, hands on her hips. To anyone else it was an angry stance, aggressive, but Wilson knew better. Knew Amber better.

"You think?" she asked.

"They're both bad at relationships, it's hard to tell." She snorted and sat down next to him, kissing him on the cheek. "And they're not sure themselves, they both accosted me about it today."

"So they think they're dating but they're not sure?" she said, clarifying.

"Yeah." She grinned, a wicked little flick of her lips that Wilson loved and was terrified of at the same time.

"I am so going to give him hell over this," she said.

"No, no," Wilson said, "leave them to it."

"James," she said with a grin.

"No!" he said, putting his hand up in a stopping gesture.

"I like it when you're forceful," she said, climbing into his lap.

"Well, I'm putting my foot down," he said, smiling, kissing her as she moved to straddle him, "let them at least figure out what's going on before you give House hell for being in love."

"Love? You said they were dating, not in love," she said, "that's different." She went to move from his lap, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her to him.

"Just leave it Amber," he said, "please."

"I don't know," she said, "it's really good material."

He kissed her solidly, still holding her tight to his body, one hand moving to slip under her shirt and run over her breasts.

"We can watch porn."

"We were going to anyway," she said, "it's Thursday."

"I meant, the other porn." Her face lit up. Since she started dating Wilson, she was trying a new tack with the relationship, where she didn't just do what she wanted all time, didn't demand everything. So she had tried giving up a few things that he didn't like. Such as gay porn. Because it made him feel a little uncomfortable for reasons she hadn't figured out yet, and wouldn't until he was ready to tell her. Which was also new, normally she would've pushed and pushed until he cracked and told her everything she wanted to know. Instead she was playing the waiting game. The rewards were better.

And she got to watch her porn once in a while.

"I'll stay away from House," she said, jumping off his lap in search of her dvd.


	8. Semi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House was late.

House was late.

Cuddy had been prepared for this more than likely eventuality. She'd told him dinner would be at six, knowing he wouldn't turn up until sometime after seven. Some people couldn't help being habitually late, House made it an art.

At ten to seven, when he knocked on the her door, dinner was almost ready and she was smiling when she answered, the almost smug expression dropping into shock when she saw him standing there.

He had flowers.

Jeans, t-shirt, a navy shirt and flowers that looked like they needed a good drink.

House looked like he needed a good drink too.

"Hey," he said, thrusting the flowers at her. She took them and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're late," she said, when she found her brain again, chastising him even though she had planned for him to be late.

"Yeah."

He followed her into the kitchen, sniffing for the lasagna, watching her ass in the black skirt she'd chosen, as she picked out a vase from a cupboard. He had lost his mind, he'd decided, getting her flowers.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Beer?" he asked, hopefully.

"It's in the fridge," she told him, turning her attention back to the flowers.

"This is a date isn't it?" he said quietly, twisting the top off his beer with concentration, as if he were performing a medical procedure.

"House, you bought me flowers," she said, "I'd say we've been dating for the past three days."

"Yeah."

"You don't want to be dating me," she stated, dropping her oven gloves to the counter.

"It's not that..."

"No, it's okay," she interrupted him, "it's just about the sex, I can appreciate that." She turned the oven off and walked past him into her dining room. He followed, leaving his beer in the kitchen, and watched as she swept the silverware from the table into her hand, blowing out the single candle she had lit.

"Lisa," he said, "stop."

She ignored him and went back into the kitchen. She looked at the flowers, feeling a petal between her fingertips before pushing them into the corner.

"I'll keep the flowers," she said, turning to face him, but not meeting his eyes, "seems like a shame to waste them."

"I stole them," he said, feeling a touch hopeful when he saw a faint smile.

"Still..." she trailed off, stepped towards him, and kissed him on the lips, hard and angry, forcing her tongue into his mouth.

"Cuddy?" he asked, "I thought you were pissed."

"I am," she replied, dragging his shirts up, "but I might as well get something out of this fucked up rela...thing."

He was pretty sure they should talk, but he'd never been one for talking and she was digging her perfectly, manicured nails into his sides, and circling her hips against his.

He kissed her back, just as hard, grabbing her hips and whirling her around, dropping his cane. He pushed her up against the counter, grinding his hips against hers. She moaned, the sound reverberating through him, and he bit down on her neck, hands pushing her blouse up, up, up over her head. Her breasts were spilling out of the silky lace cups and he moved down to bite the tops of them, sucking hard to both mark her and cause her pain.

If she could be angry, then so could he, if she wasn't going to give him a chance to explain then he was going to fuck her like he had wanted to days ago. Years ago.

"Bedroom," he growled, pulling his body away but leaving his teeth attached to her skin for a moment longer, pulling and pulling until she yelped.

He grabbed his cane from the floor, and made his way to her bedroom, Lisa close behind, stripping off her clothes as she went. When he reached her bedroom he turned around to see her standing naked before him, he wanted to stand and stare but even if he wasn't really angry, she still was, pouncing on him and kissing him, hands pulling at the buttons of his navy shirt, pushing him back towards her bed, cane clattering to the floor again.

He sat down before he fell and noted that she still wasn't making eye contact with him. It was hard to make eye contact with her when her breasts were just there and just perfect. He leaned forward to take a nipple into his mouth but she moved away to bed down and undo his jeans, pulling them roughly down his legs, stripping him with the efficiency of a hooker.

He didn't want that from Cuddy, he wanted her warmth and her lust, her passion for him, not her anger. He wanted her love.

"Cmmudy," he said, her name caught up in his t-shirt as she yanked it over his head. "Cuddy stop."

She straddled him, grinding her hips down hard into his, making him groan and he swore at his body's reaction. She nipped at his neck, teeth leaving little indents from his ear to his shoulder, hips still thrusting lightly into his, his boxers the only barrier between them. He reached up, cupping a breast and her cheek to try and kiss her, forgetting that he'd wanted her to stop a moment before, her breasts rubbing against his chest and he'd wanted this for so long. She pulled her head away from him, not letting him kiss her.

He growled, trying to think past the sight of Lisa Cuddy's breasts, her thighs trapping him in and her hand making their way into his boxers.

"Lisa," he said, grabbing her arms. She fought him, wrapping her hand around his cock and squeezing gently. He groaned but held firm. "Lisa stop," he ordered but she didn't answer.

Putting his weight on his good leg, he pushed her up and pulled her over and onto the bed, falling on top of her and trapping her beneath his body. He was bigger than she was, stronger, and while she still fought, she couldn't move. Her legs trapped between his, his hands still gripping her forearms hard enough to bruise.

"I can play rough too," he growled, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips. He moved her arms up and together, holding them in one hand. "I told you to stop."

"You want it," she argued, still, still not meeting his eyes, "want me."

"Of course I fucking do, but not like this." He moved his hand down her body, skimming down the side, purely because as angry as she was, she was that beautiful and he couldn't help himself. He reached between their bodies, fingers dancing over her centre, feeling a minimal amount of wetness, and he smirked.

"You're barely fucking wet Lisa," he said, licking his fingers, "you really want me to fuck you dry?"

"Maybe I want some pain."

"I will tear you. It won't just hurt," he said. He was exaggerating, and knew she'd see through it but still... "I don't think you're that much into S and M." She blushed and he kissed her again, coaxing her gently to kiss him properly. She resisted for a moment, then he heard and felt her sigh, kissing him back, her body relaxing under his. He moved his hand down her body again, intending to feel between her thighs when she pushed at him again, the element of surprise giving her purchase to throw him off her and onto his back. She scrambled to her feet grabbing the nearest thing to cover herself up, ridiculous really, but then, he knew anger never really worked in the nude.

"House," she hissed.

"What?"

"First you do want sex, then you don't, and now you do again?" she said, one hand on her hip, blanket wrapped around her. "Make up your mind so I can either go eat or get fucked."

"I want to explain," he said, resting on his elbows. "And eat, and have sex. Not necessarily in that order."

"Explain?" she huffed. "What? You don't want to date me, just fuck me and eat my food?"

"No."

He was starting to feel stupid lying on her bed in just his boxers, scar and cock exposed to her even though he was softening slowly. He pulled his leg over the edge of the bed to sit on the edge and looked across her.

"You do want to date me?"

"No."

"For fucks sake House!" she cried.

"I don't like dating," he said, quietly, "it's awkward and boring and pointless."

"It's not pointless. Frustrating maybe," she paused, "where are you going with this?"

"I want to skip the dating, get straight to the semi-comfortable relationship bit."

"Oh." She dropped down onto the edge of the bed beside him.

They were quiet for a couple of minutes, the air in the room cooling, but the atmosphere warming a little. House was starting to feel cold in his boxers, his leg throbbing an extra beat to remind him he was mostly naked, Cuddy wrapped tightly in her blanket next to him.

"Are you still hungry?" she asked quietly.

"A bit."

"Lasagne's probably a bust. We could get take out," she suggested.

"Okay."

She smiled at him and stood up, the blanket still clutched tight to her chest.

"I'll put some clothes on."

She stood up, making her way around the bed to go looking for her clothes.

"Leave your underwear off," he called out after her.


	9. Show And Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tThey were sitting on her large sofa, half an hour later, boxes of Thai food scattered on her glass top coffee table and heaped onto their plates. Cuddy's feet were curled underneath her, her underwear still in the hallway, body titled towards House as she ate. He had left his shirts on the floor of her kitchen, his jeans loose on his hips, long legs stretched out, feet resting on top of the glass. The television buzzed before them, the news flickering quietly as they ate.

tThey were sitting on her large sofa, half an hour later, boxes of Thai food scattered on her glass top coffee table and heaped onto their plates. Cuddy's feet were curled underneath her, her underwear still in the hallway, body titled towards House as she ate. He had left his shirts on the floor of her kitchen, his jeans loose on his hips, long legs stretched out, feet resting on top of the glass. The television buzzed before them, the news flickering quietly as they ate.

"Got any good dvds?" he asked.

"A few," she nodded to the book case in the far corner, the very bottom shelf lined with dvds.

"Is that it?"

"You'll find them covered in a light layer of dust," she said, "never have time to watch any."

"Any porn?"

"No," she said sharply.

"No porn at all, or no porn on dvd?" he asked, looking at her carefully. She hesitated and blushed. "Ha!" he cried, triumphant, "what do you have? Some old VHS? Magazines? A list of dirty websites bookmarked on your laptop?"

"No!"

"Desktop?"

"No." She was still blushing, but her face was hard, trying not to let her embarrassment show. "I may have a couple of books."

"Really?"

The way his eyes lit up with the information was both beautiful and disturbing.

"Yeah."

"Can I see?"

"Bedside cabinet," she said, telling him was easier than having a cripple ransack your bedroom, she decided.

He came back with three books, dropping down hard onto the sofa, making her jump up in her seat a little. Her cheeks were still flushed red, and he was almost grinning at her.

"This one not as good?" he asked, holding up a book, pristine compared to the other two, tattier, books.

"It's new."

The blush on her face amused him way too much for her liking.

He put her the new book down and picked up one of the older ones, flicking through to find something good, something hot.

"This one looks well loved," he said.

"I'm sure your favourite dvds are covered in scratches."

"I take good care of my porn," he huffed. She tried to hold in her chuckle, and he didn't look up from her book, having found a passage he liked.

"Can I borrow these?" he asked.

"No."

"Swap you a couple of dvds for a week."

"No," she grabbed the book from him. "I don't like porn."

"Really?"

"It's so empty," she said, "I don't care about those people, I don't care if they get off or not."

"You are such a girl," he said, making a grab for another book.

"I know, I'm sorry, but Wilson is taken now, you're stuck with me."

"I'll make do," he grumbled, and she smiled, wondering exactly what he was trying to tell her.

After a little while of House reading her erotic fiction, he started to shift and wriggle on the sofa next to Cuddy as she watched the news. He held the book in one hand and palmed his groin.

"This is actually hot you know," he said, not looking at her.

"I don't read it for the prose House," she said, looking at the slight flush on his face, down to where his hand was rubbing, "you're reading the bit where Pete is begging aren't you?" Her voice had changed and he turned to look at her, to find her smiling in that seductive but evil manner she had.

"Yeah."

"You kinda like that don't you?" she said, moving to talk softly in his ear.

"It's well written," he said and Cuddy laughed, tongue flicking out over his ear lobe. He breathed in hard, and pulled her to him, almost on top of him, kissing her hard. She curled around his body, hands cupping his face and kissing back, one arm wrapped around her waist to keep her close.

"You know," he breathed, tugging at her bottom lip, "a semi-comfortable relationship would involve sofa sex."

"Or just going to bed early," she said with a grin, pulling out of his hold and standing up. She held out a hand to him, but he refused her offer, swinging his legs to the floor and pushing himself up.

"At least we've already gotten through some of the foreplay."

"Oh no," she said, "you're not getting away with that."

He laughed and followed her through the house, leaving his cane by her sofa, watching her ass, passing her underwear in the corridor floor with a smirk. Once in her bedroom he went straight for her blouse, tugging at the buttons roughly.

"House, you'll rip it," she chided.

"Good," he grumbled back, pulling a button clean away and exposing more of her cleavage. "I have this fantasy about ripping a wedding dress from your body," he told her, pulling the shirt open and from her body, dropping it on her bedroom floor.

His eyes, lips and hands zeroed in on her breasts.

"You want a semi-comfortable relationship and to rip a wedding dress off me?" she asked, completely confused by him but certainly not for the first time.

"I don't necessarily want to get married," he said, licking a circle around a nipple, "just wanna rip a perfect pretty wedding dress and fuck you senseless." He cupped both breasts with his hands and she moaned softly.

"I don't get you at all House," she murmured.

"I'm an enigma," he said, "maybe I'll buy you a white dress."

"Still want to skip the foreplay?" she asked with a gasp.

"Yes, but I'm willing to compromise, for the benefits."

"Compromise?" she said, aching an eyebrow.

"Yes, I know it's a term you're unfamiliar with, especially in the bedroom, but it can be fun. Look it up in the dictionary," he said, lifting his head up to kiss her. She couldn't help the stupid grin, kissing him and pulling him around and sitting on the bed. He followed her down, settling himself in the middle of the bed and pulling Cuddy to settle on top of him, making out topless. Just like college.

He was almost happy. Hoping she understood some of what he was trying to tell her, because he wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to say himself. Or what he felt beyond the physical throb of his leg and his dick.

He reached down and tugged the hem of her skirt up, his knuckles rough over her thigh, before cupping her bare ass with one large hand and squeezing, circling his hips again. She moaned softly, a little breath of a noise in his ear, he unzipped her skirt and the two of them tugged it down and away from her. She shifted, sitting up to straddle him and he followed, leaning forward to kiss her breasts, lips pressed against her skin, later he would just sit and look and study her body, her breasts, but right now, he wanted to taste and tease and make the most of everything. He circled a nipple with his tongue again and she sighed, a happy sigh that he hadn't heard from her before.

He liked it.

He continued to lick and nip at her breasts, and she unzipped his jeans, struggling to pull them down as he refused to let go of one nipple, latching onto it with his teeth. She managed to get them to his knees before she had to pull away with a long moan as he sucked on her nipple and released it with a wet pop.

"God, even in bed you're annoying," she said, yanking his jeans around the rest of the way, and tossing them to her bedroom floor.

"You love it."

"I really don't House, there's a time and a place for stubbornness," she said, "actually, there isn't..." He smirked and pulled her down to him to kiss her, tongue slipping into her mouth, fighting her, pushing and pulling.

"You love it," he repeated, nipping at her lower lip. He knew she loved that, but didn't reply or respond, settling down on top of him again, and he rolled them, so he was on top, settling between her legs. This was new for them, to be so intimately pressed against her, only his boxers stopping him from slipping deep into her body. Moisture was soaking the material, and as he kissed her neck, nipping at the soft skin there, he moved his hips against hers.

"Greg," she moaned, hands tugging at his boxers.

He realised they were actually going to do this _at-fucking-last_ , and he, he hadn't wanted anything like this for a long time. With this intensity.

He wished it was twenty years ago, or that he was twenty years younger, or even wished he had two good legs because he wanted to be better for her. Not that she deserved it most of the time, but that's how he felt.

Sometimes he got wasted to distract himself from the confusion.

He rid himself of his boxers, his dick sliding against her wetness and he groaned, the noise and sensation reverberating through his brain and body.

"I get it," he said, voice harsh, kissing her sweetly, tongue flicking over her bottom lip. "I understand now."

"Huh?" she whispered, reaching down between them.

"There's no going back," he said, pushing into her hand, then her body as she guided him in slowly. "Not now." He thrust in hard and she cried out.

They were still and silent for a few moments, connected, House hard and deep inside, heat surrounding him and making his head spin.

This was what Cuddy had wanted for twenty years.

She should never have waited this long and she shifted her hips, thrusting up against him and he started to move, pulling her legs up to wrap around his waist and she wanted to ask if he could handle this, if his leg could handle this, but he was sliding in deep, the rhythm perfect and all her words were gone.

They found a rhythm together, slow and sweet, moving against one another, pushing and pulling. He bent his head down to take a nipple into his mouth and damn, he loved her breasts. Always had.

"Greg," she panted, "I love you." He didn't reply, kissing her hard instead, pushing harder. Of course she loved him. He knew that.

"If, if I tell you," he paused thrusting hard, "that I love you." Another pause and she squealed when he shifted to the side a little, onto his good leg, "back," he grunted and eventually hoped to finish his sentence, "can I watch porn at work?" He sighed in relief.

"No," she answered, voice high as they moved, pace picking up, kissing him.

"Can I get out of clinic duty?"

"Never."

Their movements and pace never faltered once, and god she didn't want him to tell her he loved her. She mostly wanted to die from the pleasure of this. The physical and emotional and _ohgodwherewashishandgoing_.

"If I give you a kid, will you let me off clinic duty?"

"No," she huffed out on a breath. "Nothing is go-ing," the word got caught in her throat, "to get you out of clinic."

"I hate you," he said, lacking venom, breathing hard, kissing her gently.

Showing her.

She couldn't say any more, the hand that had drifted down her body, slipped between them, one large finger pressing down on her clit.

"Greg," she sobbed.

Cuddy sobbed,

House thought he was going to have a fucking heart attack with that information.

He pressed down on her clit again, moving harder and faster. Deep into her body, the heat of her burning his mind, and she started to tighten around him, pulling him into her and when she started to shake beneath him, his name a constant sob, her orgasm rolling over her, he was done, deep, and everything went dark, pleasure breaking him.

When he opened his eyes again, she was stroking his back, and smiling at him.

"You are so fucking hot Lise," he told her, rolling on his back.

"Yeah," she breathed and he smirked at the answer.

"You do know right?"

The tone of his voice had her hesitating, and she looked at him, trying to see exactly what he was asking.

He loved her. She knew.

"Yeah."

"I fucked you into one word answers," he said, with a smug smile.

"Yeah."

"You seriously can't say anything else?" he asked.

"I am going to ride you so hard later."

He smirked and pulled her close.


	10. Confessional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House woke up on his back as usual but with Cuddy attached to him, arms and legs curled around him. Most of her face was buried into his chest and hidden by her dark hair and he smiled. This wasn't the first time they'd woken up together, but this was the first time so much skin had been involved. She was like a heavy silk blanket and it was beautiful and annoying.

House woke up on his back as usual but with Cuddy attached to him, arms and legs curled around him. Most of her face was buried into his chest and hidden by her dark hair and he smiled. This wasn't the first time they'd woken up together, but this was the first time so much skin had been involved. She was like a heavy silk blanket and it was beautiful and annoying.

"Why are you awake?" she mumbled into his skin, "s'not even light."

"Snot," he smirked.

"What are you eight?"

"Yes. Pedophile." She ignored him, remaining still. "I can't sleep with a limpet attached to my side."

She ignored him again, curling up closer instead, holding him tighter.

"Leg! Leg!" he cried and she jumped to the side, almost falling off the bed as she tried to get away from him. When she sat up he was grinning at her.

"House! That's not funny!" she scolded. His grin grew at the anger, the effect somewhat ruined by the fact she looked gorgeous first thing in the morning. Disheveled hair curling around her face, her expression softer, relaxed.

The nudity helped too.

"You owe me a ride," he said, pulling her back to him and kissing her, tongue pushing into her mouth immediately, ignoring the morning breath and the taste of _him_ still in her mouth.

"Do you only think about sex?"

"Whenever I look at you, yes," he said, "but most people do. It's the low cut tops."

"Shut up."

"No, now, giddy up. You owe me. Or I owe you, I'm not exactly sure. In any case, there's riding to be done." She sighed then groaned when he pushed his erection into her side. "I think I might have a riding crop at home."

"Really?" she said, eyes wide. He smirked and kissed her again, pulling their bodies flush against each others.

"Somewhere," he replied, thrusting up against her again.

"Have to supply your own props for when the hookers come round?"

"Good one," he said, reaching down between them to wrap a fist around his own dick. She rubbed herself shamelessly against his knuckles with a sleepy smile, sucking on his tongue a second later. He let go to palm a breast, scraping the nail of his thumb over her nipple and making her gasp. When he moved the hand down to run a finger over her clit, he found her wet and she moaned, whined almost. He smirked, he'd woken because his leg was ragging him, throbbing and thumping, but this was something worth staying awake for, and he rolled onto his back, grabbing his Vicodin. She shuffled closed to him, kissing the skin of his shoulder as he swallowed two pills, a normality in the middle of all this new-ness with Cuddy.

"On ya get," he said patting his good leg.

"You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, House."

"Not really, that's why I'm with you."

"I love you too," she said, voice laced with sleep and sarcasm, straddling him anyway, eyes not quite completely open.

She pressed down on her clit, hands between her legs, moaning as her fingers moved and House reached out to take her hand, reaching up to pinch a nipple with the other.

"Greg!" His name was a sharp breath of air pulled into her lungs, her voice full of sleep too, and it was the sexiest things about her right them. And her breasts. Always her breasts. She lifted up into her knees, grabbing his dick and sinking down onto him slowly, sweetly, groaning and breathing hard.

House could barely keep his brain going.

"Fucking hell Lisa," he muttered, grabbing hold of her waist to ground himself and to stop her from moving just yet. "All those guys and you're still this fucking tight?"

"I'm not a whore Greg," she said, moving despite his tight hold.

"Yeah, but you put out on the first date."

"I don't date a whole lot though," she said, leaning forward to rest her palms on his chest, rocking her hips, voice strained, every word already punctuating by heavy breaths, "not anymore."

"Whatever you say babe," he forced out.

"Don't. Call me babe," she said, flexing her muscles around him, his groan loud, panicked. "If you think I've slept with half of New Jersey, why haven't you insisted on wearing a condom like with the rest of your whores?"

"If you think I sleep with so many whores, why haven't you?" he asked in reply, gripping her hips a little harder, and thrusting up into her tight heat.

"You'd never catch an STD. You'd probably use more protection with a hooker than in a medical procedure," she said, words not quite coming out as she intended, sounding as angry as she wanted, picked up her pace, every word a strain, they were both too sleepy for this to be a long fuck, "you wash before and after you go to the bathroom."

He laughed, a chocked sound that he refused to acknowledge sounded like a desperate sob already, and she rolled her hips in reply to his noises. It was a struggle, his body fighting his insistence to stay alert, aware of every movement and feeling, when the pleasure made him want to shut down. He thrust up harder into her body, all searing heat and velvet, with more force and more pace.

She was making more new noises too, and whatever retort he'd had was lost with the soft sleepy _'uh'_ noises she expelled every time he thrust up. Her eyes had closed, and just her fingertips touched his chest as she moved against him in a slightly disjointed rhythm that stopped this from being fantastic, but still meant it was pretty fantastic.

His internal thesaurus had pretty much been burnt by the heat of her.

She moved one hand to touch between her legs again, just brushing over her clit at first and he loved the sight of it. He could come at the sight of it, he thought, though, with his leg, probably not. She pressed down a little harder, the ripples of pleasure rushing through them both, the little _'uh'_ noises louder, moving harder.

"That, you, are," he huffed out the words, pausing to take a deep breath so he could get a full sentence out of his mouth, "hottest thing I've seen outside of a porno."

She didn't reply, made a whiny ' _mmm?_ ' noise, sliding one finger down to where he was pushing into her, digging her nail into his flesh so it dragged along his dick as he thrust in and out.

"Ah, fucking hell Cuddy!" he cried out. "That hurt."

"Aw," she breathed, "poor baby," she said with a wicked grin, eyes still shut.

"Don't call me baby," he grunted.

"Sorry," she said, still grinning, crying out when he thrust harder into her.

Their pace was becoming frantic, Cuddy's fingers moving just as fast and rough on her clit. It was too good, _good, good, good_ and he wished he could think of words, other than fuck, and good and Cuddy.

"I, I haven't," he huffed, each word followed by an ' _eh_ ' noise, "only a couple of hookers," he managed.

"House, shut up," Cuddy moaned.

"No," he said, "s'inportant," his brain was shutting down, he was giving in, "only blow jobs," he confessed, whispering like it was church and she was Mother Superior Cuddy. "Needed a distraction."

She didn't reply, couldn't reply, hands slamming down onto his chest as she came, crying out his name, his words unimportant compared to the act. To the fact he'd actually told her something.

"Greg, Greg, Greg," she gasped out and he kept moving, gripping hard and gritting his teeth. He had a lot of regrets, but this, wasn't going to be one of them. Nor his confession, and he came thinking about that, that level of trust he had in Cuddy.

He jerked sporadically against her, spilling deep into her body, warmth spreading through them both. He collapsed back into the pillows, panting and Cuddy shifted to his side, off his his leg. They laid side by side on the bed, breathing hard, House reaching out to lay a hand flat on Cuddy's thigh, just to be connected top her, because he didn't feel connected to his brain. Just the throb of pleasure and thud of pain in his thigh. When his breathing slowed a little, he stood up, paced around the room, stretching out his leg.

"You okay?" she panted, eyes still closed, lungs still working over time.

"Yeah," he grunted, "you?"

"Completely fucked." He chuckled at that.

"Want a drunk?" he asked.

"Please."

When he came back she was curled up under the blankets, eyes closed, a smile on her face. He climbed in next to her.

"Water," he said, and she sat up to take the glass, gulping down half.

"Thank you," she said, putting it down on her bedside cabinet. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, really," he insisted, frowning. She nodded, curling up next to him, keeping away from his bad leg instinctively. "About what I said," he spoke quietly.

"It's okay Greg."

"No, sometimes things have to be said."

"What do you want to say?" she asked.

"It was all true," he said, "Wilson's idea, but all true."

"Wilson suggested hookers?"

House chuckled.

"Yes, I don't think he was completely serious. The distraction part was the imporatant bit."

"You never focus on the important."

"Hence the hookers," he said. She smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "You're taking the hooker thing very well," he mused.

She shrugged. "I'm hardly shocked by anything you've done."

"That's a lie."

"Okay, then..." she paused, "I'm sad more than anything. Because you're miserable enough to resort to hookers."

"You can be my distraction now," he mumbled, a look of vulnerability on his face she'd never seen before. She kissed him on the cheek again.

"Go back to sleep House."


	11. Functional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He woke later to a glass of water next to the bed, the scent of breakfast wafting through the entire house. Eggs, toast, coffee. She was looking after him, and it didn't like it much but accepted it, clambering out of the bed to find his clothes in a neat pile on a chair, his cane hanging on the back of it. He considered walking through her house naked but felt too vulnerable after last night, too exposed, even though Cuddy had seen everything, knew everything. He settled on pulling his jeans on and grabbing his cane, padding bare foot to the kitchen.

He woke later to a glass of water next to the bed, the scent of breakfast wafting through the entire house. Eggs, toast, coffee. She was looking after him, and it didn't like it much but accepted it, clambering out of the bed to find his clothes in a neat pile on a chair, his cane hanging on the back of it. He considered walking through her house naked but felt too vulnerable after last night, too exposed, even though Cuddy had seen everything, knew everything. He settled on pulling his jeans on and grabbing his cane, padding bare foot to the kitchen.

He'd realised at some point in the night that this could work between them. Like he was a functioning addict, this could be a functioning relationship. Messed up, but functioning.

He liked that word.

She was dressed for work when he walked into the kitchen, half humming to the radio, the flowers he'd stolen for her brought out from the corner and into the sunshine, looking better than the night before.

He suspected he did too. Sex was good like that.

"Morning," she said when she turned around. She still had a just fucked glow, that he'd seen a few times before, but had never been the cause of until now.

"Eggs Benedict?" he asked, looking over her shoulder, "that still can't be the only thing you know how to cook?"

"No, but it's the only thing I know you like, other than Wilson's pancakes and cold Reubens."

He forgot sometimes that, while she could figure out the deeper parts of him, she didn't know the little things. His preferred breakfast cereal didn't compare to working out the deeper complexities of his mental health.

"Fruit loops are good," he said, "but I'm not really a breakfast kinda guy."

"I know," she smiled at him and served him his eggs, a small plate for herself. This didn't surprise him, he knew the smaller and the deeper things about Cuddy.

"Did you sleep at all after we had sex this morning?" he asked, leering down her top.

"A little, then I went for a run."

She sat opposite him at her little kitchen table, this was new, he realised, bare feet against his. They ate quietly for a little while until he had to say something about the niggling thought at the back of his mind.

"You're back on the pill. Or something," he said quietly, "haven't worked out exactly what yet."

"How did you know?"

"You've given up on a baby but not sex," he told her, "you'd never have sex with me without talking about the chance of getting pregnant if there was one."

She hesitated with her response, chewing her eggs slowly.

"You're right, I would want to talk about."

"What do you want?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I want a semi comfortable relationship with lots of sex and scotch. What do you want?"

She was looking at him with that disbelief he hated seeing. Like she was amazed he had asked, that he might care about what she wanted. He wasn't entirely sure he did care, but he was asking anyway.

"I still want kids. But I've accepted it'll probably never happen."

"Did you really go to therapy?" he asked.

"I had a couple of sessions. Didn't think it was for me."

"I knew you were stronger than that." She shrugged.

"I need to get to work." He nodded. "You know you could get ready, get those clinic hours out of the way."

"No thanks, I'd rather stay here and make myself at home."

"Mark your territory you mean."

"I was thinking about going back to sleep, then rifling through your things, but same difference."

She smiled, accepting him.

* * *

"You're reading," Wilson said, frowning like it was the end of the world.

"Yes."

"A book," he added.

"Yes."

"You don't read books."

"I do too."

"Okay, then you don't read novels," he clarified. House didn't look up from the book, shifting his chair closer to his desk instead.

"And?"

"What are you reading?"

"Erotic fiction," House said, finally glancing up to see Wilson's confusion, "porn novel."

Wilson came to sit opposite him at the desk, looking closely at the book in his hands.

"Can I see?" he asked.

Not taking his eyes from the print, he reached across the desk with one hand and grabbed another book, throwing it at the other man. Wilson immediately opened it up and started reading. Neither spoke for a few minutes.

"Where the hell did you get these from?" he asked.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, then myself, before Cuddy did it."

"Cuddy!"

"Yep."

"Wow."

"What? Women like porn, some sort of porn. I bet Cutthroat Bitch has an impressive collection." Wilson blushed red and House smirked. "I knew it."

"Cuddy gave you her porn."

"I stole it when she went to work this morning."

"Did you break in or were you already there?" Wilson asked, with a small smile, fishing.

"I was already there," House said, without hesitation.

"So you two..."

"Fucked? yes. Twice." His eyes went back to the book in his hands. He was going to have to invest in some of these, they were perfect for work.

"So the date went well?"

"No, it was a disaster."

"Oh."

"We decided not to date."

"Oh," Wilson frowned again, "but you two are..."

"The words are semi comfortable relationship."

"And Cuddy is okay with this?"

"She said yes," House said, "except it was more like a scream."

Wilson rolled his eyes, then almost jumped clean out of his chair when he heard Cuddy's distinctive click, clack in the corridor, then her voice at the door.

"House! Clinic. Now!"

The book flew from Wilson's hand at her words, cheeks burning.

"What are you two doing?" she asked, suspicious. She walked into the office.

"Reading," House said, smirking up at her.

"Oh god..." she trailed off when she saw what he was reading. "Clinic now!"

House pushed himself to his feet, book still in one hand, walking past her, cane in the other.

"You can do an extra hour for this," she said, making a grab for the book. He dodged her attempt with a grin.

"No way. you can't punish me with work for relationship fuck ups."

"Or he'll be doing clinic hours until he's ninety," Wilson put in.

"He owes me that many clinic hours anyway," Cuddy replied, with a little smile, making another attempted to get her book back.

"We need to set some rules."

"Yes, like not bringing my private things to work."

"I want to read this to my patients," he said, waving the book teasingly at her. She didn't bite, crossing her arms instead.

"Do that, and it'll be forty years between blow jobs and not twenty," she said, "do you hours and you can have one tonight."

"Damn," he muttered. He thought about it for a moment, then handed her the book and left the office.

When he was gone, Cuddy turned to Wilson, both doctors bright red with embarrassment.

"James, I'm sorry. House and I shouldn't bring our relationship to work, and definitely shouldn't discuss it so blatantly in front of you."

"It's fine Cuddy. I'm happy for you both." She smiled and collected her books from House's desk.

"And about the books, I, ah..." He cut her off.

"It's fine. You should see some of the dvds Amber owns."

With that he got up and walking away, his step a little awkward, making Cuddy laugh.


	12. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We need to set some ground rules."

"We need to set some ground rules."

Cuddy was standing over him while he sat on her sofa, hands on hips, a glare on her face. Despite her jeans and polo shirt, her hair damp from her shower, it was still a threatening look, to anyone but House. He appreciated the effort though.

"Okay," he said, sitting up a little. "Blow jobs twice a week, naked Saturdays and office sex," he continued, "yours, mine, Wilson's, doesn't matter..."

"No."

"No?"

"I didn't mean those sort of rules."

He knew that, hell, they both knew he knew what she really meant and he was surprised she'd let him get past the word ' _blow_ '.

"Are my sort of rules up for negotiation?"

"Maybe."

He raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected that, and she was trying not to smirk at him.

"Later," she told him, "my rules need discussing first."

"Okay."

"In the vain hope you will actually do as I ask."

"If you got on your knees and begged," he interrupted.

"This isn't fantasy time House, this...I don't want you bringing any of my things to work. Porn books, photos, papers, _anything_." He nodded, listening, "Mostly I want things to stay the same, the sexual harassment, the work related disobedience."

"Right."

"Whatever...stuff you find out about me, my personal life, my family stays between us."

"I know everything about you already."

"Right."

"One sister, two nephews, dad was a lawyer, died seven years ago, mum taught English at high school. Your first boyfriend was called Eric..."

"How the hell did you know that?" she asked.

"I've known you twenty years, I know..."

"Everything about everyone, I know," she cut in.

"But I'll be no more of a jerk than I already am. No point in striving for perfection when you already are perfect." She smiled, "As long as you don't use clinic hours as a punishment when I fuck things up between us."

"Deal."

"So, can we negotiate the other stuff."

"No naked Saturdays, no sex at the hospital, I don't care how hard Wilson thinks you are to say no too," she said.

"And he would know."

"And we really need to talk about that."

"Later," he said with a smirk, "I want naked Saturdays."

"No."

"And office sex."

"No."

"I always get what I want," he reminded her and she frowned.

"I may concede to the occasional naked Saturdays, in exchange for regular oral sex."

"Deal."

They shook on it, and with a grip on her hand he pulled her into his lap.

"House!" she cried, "you're going to get hurt one day." He shrugged.

"You can make it up to me with morphine and blow jobs," she smiled, kissing him.

"We'll see," she said, sliding off his lap and onto her knees in front of him. She looked up at him with that wicked smile, but couldn't mask the fact that she hated being on her knees for a man.

She was though, reaching up to undo his jeans anyway. He loved her for it, doubting he could never do anything he hated for her.

"Do you actually need some morphine?" she asked, pulling his jeans and boxers down past his knees, scratching her nails across his thighs.

"While normally I wouldn't turn down drugs, I want to be as clear headed for this as possible."

"I wasn't going to give you any," she said, "I just wanted to know how hard it was going to be to get you off."

"Oh," he laughed, then moaned when she took the head of his semi erect cock into her mouth and sucked. "Oh goodie," he muttered. She smiled, feeling him grow and harden in her mouth, letting him push further in, listening to his breathing quicken.

When he was fully hard, she pulled back, running her tongue along his shaft, swirling around his head. He sighed, happy, and she glanced up to see him smiling. It suited him. It was worth it, she thought, flicking her tongue over the head of his cock.

Damn, she'd gotten better at this, he realised, flopping back against the sofa cushions as she started to suck on his cock, head bobbing between his legs, only his mangled leg spoiling the view of Cuddy's long dark hair, his cock slipping between swollen pink lips.

He ran his fingers through it, resting his hand on her head, resisting the urge to thrust up into her mouth. Hookers let him do that, let him use them to get off by any means necessary, even if it meant he was a little rough and they had to fight what little gag reflex they had left. It was different with Cuddy, she wasn't just a vessel for an orgasm, but something much better, much more important. She hated doing this as much as any of his hookers but did it anyway because she loved him.

Stupid woman.

"Fuck, you've been practising," he groaned when she let him slide from her mouth to move down and lick around his balls. She fisted his cock and pumped her wrist slowly as she ran her tongue past his balls to his anus, then back again, all the way over his shaft. He bucked and groaned and she grinned, taking him back into her mouth, continuing her previous pace, hand still pumping his shaft as she sucked on the head of his cock.

"Lisaaaa," he groaned, thrusting forward a little, encouraged when she didn't stop him.

It was warm and wet in her mouth, her lips tight around him, fist too, and he moved his hips with her, as hard as he dared. Then she hummed, the tiny vibration of her mouth shooting through his sensitive flesh and he cried out when he came into her mouth. She swallowed, gagging a little before pulling away, smiling. He shook a little with the high, watching as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then took a long sip of his beer.

"Much better," she said, getting up.

"God yeah," he mumbled, reaching for her. "So, naked Saturday," he said, eyes closed, "this weekend?"

She rolled her eyes, but smiled.

"Sure, why not."


	13. Nintendo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He'd spent the past few nights at her house but on Thursday she woke up alone. The space beside her was cold and she let out a little groan. He had to go sometime, she knew that, before they killed each other. Semi-comfortable relationship or not, he still pissed her off and he was still...House. She growled again, and swung her legs over the edge of her bed.

He'd spent the past few nights at her house but on Thursday she woke up alone. The space beside her was cold and she let out a little groan. He had to go sometime, she knew that, before they killed each other. Semi-comfortable relationship or not, he still pissed her off and he was still...House. She growled again, and swung her legs over the edge of her bed.

He was probably in his own bed fast asleep, face _smushed_ into his pillows, hair sticking up as the curls battled with gravity and sweat.

She smiled.

She still had to get up though, tame her own curls and get to work. She would see House later, much later and invite him back for dinner, and sex.

* * *

Much, much later, she had her head in a filing cabinet when House came in slamming his cane down onto her desk. She jumped, dropping a file onto the floor, looking back to glare at House as she bent down to clear up the paper. The look was lost on him though, his eyes on her ass in the tight beige skirt.

"Good morning," he sang, sitting down.

"Afternoon," she corrected.

"I was in the clinic." She raised an eyebrow. "Consult?"

"Lunch with Wilson?" she suggested.

"There's no price for guessing you know."

She smiled.

"You were gone this morning," she said, trying to keep her voice casual.

"Couldn't sleep," he muttered, "went home, played the piano." He shrugged.

"You needed a distraction."

"Yeah."

"Your leg okay?"

"Never."

She frowned but ignored the comment.

"Did you want something?" she asked.

"Office sex."

"No."

He smirked, sitting back in the chair.

"Porn?"

"No," she said, "No sex, no porn, in the hospital."

"A case?"

"You actually want a case, some work?"

"No, I want sex. In this office. Right now."

"Clinic." She pointed out of her office.

"Dinner tonight," he said.

"And sex. At mine," she said, "clinic."

He got to his feet as dramatically as he could and walked out. She smiled, she had missed waking up to him, or underneath him, his lanky body stretched out across her bed. She was in love what else could she say and they were both too accustomed to sleeping alone to yield to each other in bed so soon.

* * *

He hadn't particularly wanted to drive home, in the middle of the night, away from the warmth of Cuddy's hot naked body.

Except Cuddy's hot naked body hadn't been helping his thigh and he didn't want to wake her up. She worked long hours and he had been fucking her too hard to wake her up because he needed a distraction.

So he'd gotten up and gone, driven home, played piano and drank scotch and Vicodin until the early hours.

He let himself into her house that night. Dinner had been cancelled, he'd gotten a case and now it was past late, Cuddy was probably asleep. Her house was dark but he'd gotten used to the place, making himself at home so he flicked on some lights dropping his coat and sneakers in her entry way. He went for a drink first, Scotch in the living room to quiet his mind a little before slipping in Cuddy's bed. He could hear her snoring, she was getting a cold, and relished the idea of waking her.

He smirked, and went into her lounge, looking across at the bottle of scotch and the glass on her coffee table but seeing the white remote control next to it instead. He limped over to it, grabbing the yellow sticky note that was on top and dropped down onto her sofa. It was a controller for a games console and he spotted the pristine white box underneath her television, several games piled up next to it.

In her next administrative hand writing the note simply read; ' _A distraction._ '

She'd bought him a Nintendo so he wouldn't have to drive home in the middle of the night for his piano or his porn or something to focus his mind on while the pain rattled through his leg, body and brain. And she'd bought him games too, a steering wheel, other odd attachments, spending a small fortune just to keep him happy, or distracted or _here_.

Damn.

He got up again and headed for her bedroom, flicking lights on as he went. She didn't stir under the bright bulb in her room and he poked her in the side with the end of his cane. She grumbled to him, turning over and batting blindly. He prodded her again, and she mumbled something that sounded like 'fuck off' but was muffled by her hair.

"House," she groaned, opening an eye. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"You brought me a Nintendo," he said, staring at her. She sat up, brushing her hair from her face.

"You don't like it?" she asked, vulnerable while she was half asleep.

"It's great."

"Oh, cause I can get you an X-Box."

"No, I like the Nintendo." He sat down on the edge of her bed.

"I didn't like the idea of you driving in so much pain."

"Why?"

"Because you could crash and I'll lose my best doctor."

"And?"

"And the best sex I've had in decade," she smiled, "I've already told you I love you House."

He shrugged. "Thank you," he said, voice quiet and sombre.

"You're welcome, how's your patient?"

"Stable."

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked. "or do you want to play Mario Kart?" She smiled and settled back into the bed, pulling the covers back. He looked over her body and smiled.

"Definitely coming to bed."

He stripped, throwing his clothes and cane to her floor, climbing into bed with her, on top of her and kissing he. She hummed, happy, content, even though House had fought her all day. Pushed and pulled until they had been screaming so loudly at each other in his office, security had been called. She hadn't been sure if he would come over at all.

But here he was, kissing her, between her legs, hands on her breasts.

"You could move in you know," she said, when his lips left hers. "I think I've got room for the piano."

"I'll think about it while I'm going down on you," he said, with a grin. She groaned, and he moved down her body, lips trailing down to her breasts, straight to her nipples. He loved her breasts, he'd never hidden that fact from her or anyone, or himself, just spending time with his own hand thinking about them. He'd never hidden that fact from her either, and she used to give him that disgusted look, but he wondered if her reaction would be the same now they were sleeping together.

He bit down on a nipple, pulling at it with her teeth and she let out a muffled cry, trying not to let her reactions show so strongly, so soon. He smirked and kissed her other nipple, flicking it with his tongue over and over, listening to her ' _mmmuh_ ' noises with as much amusement as arousal.

Damn she was hot.

He moved further down her body, nipping hard at her abdomen, bruising the skin, and considered breaking it, deciding to save that for later. He didn't know what else she liked yet, beyond the usual. It was the one thing about Cuddy that had always eluded him, exactly what she liked in bed. He'd find out though.

He kissed the hair between her thighs and she hummed, happy because he was getting close. He placed his hands on her thighs and pushed them open further, holding on tight, thumbs digging into her muscles and kissing lower down, just a fraction, smelling her sex and arousal and smirking into her skin. He couldn't help his amusement. He liked having Cuddy like this, just waiting for him to do something, just for herself like this. He was amused by himself, because he was actually doing something for her. That she wanted.

So rarely happened.

He licked a line over her clit, down to her entrance, feeling her arousal build on his tongue. She made another muffled noise above him, more muffled by her legs rather than anything that she was doing to hold herself back.

"Greg," she whispered, harshly.

He let go of one thigh, to run a finger over the soft flesh of her centre, flicking over her clit with his tongue and she bucked up into his mouth.

"More."

Demanding, he loved that. Loved her. So he gave her what she wanted (again so rare), gave her more, probing his tongue into her heat, as deep as he could, tasting and teasing, fingers tracing patterns on wet flesh, pressing down randomly on her clit, her cries growing but still muffled by her legs. Her skin was so soft, and he was scratching her with his stubble and it was worth it, worth keeping the scruff just to hurt her like that. She would be red raw, hopefully, very possibly, between her legs. She thrust her hips into his face, his tongue moving in and out and around her body, the heat of her so warming, right down to his own core, his own cock. He would fuck her hard after this, when she cried out his name in that broken way he liked so much.

"So fucking hot Lisa," he said into her body, he slid a long finger into her body, seeking and finding the rough spot inside her, sucking on her clit as he pressed down. She bucked again, and he chuckled, this was fun, he had always gotten a lot of amusement out messing with people's heads and there was no better way to do that by scattering every thought a person had with an orgasm. He pressed down deep inside her again, pushing his tongue against her clit and she came, scorching him, crying out his name.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh," she rambled, voice high and broken and sexy. He lapped at her clit for another moment before pulling away, remaining between her legs to look at her. "I hate how good you are at that."

"Lots of practice," he said.

"Smug bastard."

"I lov-," he said, stopping when he realised what he'd been about to say, in jest. She smiled at him. "Consider it thanks for the Nintendo."

"You are really fucking welcome House."


End file.
